


In the Museum

by BryonNightshade



Category: Rockman X | Mega Man X, Rockman | Mega Man - All Media Types
Genre: Bad Ending, Dark, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-28
Updated: 2020-09-28
Packaged: 2021-03-07 16:29:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,048
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26690683
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BryonNightshade/pseuds/BryonNightshade
Summary: To some, working at the museum was just a job. To others, the museum-- and particularly the X Exhibit-- meant everything. History is written by the survivors, and, to a certain kind of survivor, history is a weapon like any other.
Comments: 1
Kudos: 10





	In the Museum

"…and these are the sorts of fuels humans consumed."

Kiper swept his hand along the display. The tour group obligingly peered inside. Kiper knew without looking what they were seeing. Roots, tubers, leaves, fruits, nuts, animal flesh, eggs, grains. Exotic, as far as the tour group was concerned—what use had they for such things?—but old hat to Kiper. They were all plastic reproductions anyway. Not that the tour groups knew the difference.

"At first glance it looks like efficiency," Kiper said, modulating his voice to feign interest and keep his true feelings silent. "They were able to consume fuels and repair materials at the same time, while those are separate processes for us ploids. In fact, it was horribly inefficient. Huge amounts of resources were wasted completely. More resources were squandered or marginally used. Their bodies could only process their fuels in the right mixes and amounts. It's…"

Kiper paused to take a check of his audience. The beta types, large and serious-minded, looked offended by the waste. The deltas, squeamish aesthetes all, were varying degrees of upset and unbalanced. Several of the etas scoffed, as if on cue. And the one lone iota wore a frown and an expression of extreme interest. Smaller than his fellows, the iota was the one closest to the display. He walked along as if trying to peer at all sides of the human-fuel. Maybe he was. Kiper didn't know what the iota was trying to get out of that inspection, and it bothered him a little.

"…complicated," he said, finally concluding the thought. "Horribly complicated, and as we all know, complicated systems have more that can go wrong. Humans were surprisingly fault-tolerant, but that always came at an effectiveness cost. For them to operate at their peak they needed so many things to go right. And that, in turn, meant burning through proportionally more resources. This way, please.

"Especially when it came to reproduction. As you may have guessed by now, humans aren't built in factories. Building more humans was only possible through two-human interfaces." With a press of a button Kiper lit up the till-now darkened display. His eyes weren't on the display, though. They were on the deltas. This was his favorite display. Watching deltas squirm never got old, and these deltas did not disappoint.

"Messy," Kiper said, relishing the moment. "Fluids were involved." That line made even one of the stoic betas turn away. Only the iota seemed unaffected; he wore the same intense look as ever.

Miffed, Kiper released the button. "And inefficient there, too," he went on, getting back to the script. "All the decisions about population management were made at the individual level. Humans viewed central management as something awful. That meant there was no coordination, no efforts to manage the breeding stock, no matching of population to resources—nothing like our build level controls existed for them."

"They deserved what they got," said one of the brasher etas. "I'm glad we don't have to mess with… stuff like that."

"They were agents of entropy," Kiper agreed affably.

"But that's awful!" said one of the deltas. "I wouldn't wish extinction on any species. Especially one as persistent as humans! Why, for a species like that to exist at all, even with it being so hard for them… It feels like that should count for something."

"You say that now," Kiper said. "When we start talking about… well. You'll see. Just wait a few displays."

"I heard…" started another of the deltas. "I heard about a technology that once existed. A technology that could bring a species back from extinction. Couldn't you—we—use that to bring humans back?"

Kiper actually laughed. "And why on Earth would we do that?"

The delta's mouth opened, but then he frowned, as if this was some sphynx's riddle.

"Anyways," Kiper said, departing from the script a little—the moment felt right for it, "I'm not sure if we could. How much practical experience do we ploids have in biology? What would we need it for? Even if we wanted to bring humans back, which we don't, we couldn't."

"Granted. But why don't we want to?" The iota, of course. Neutral tones. As if it were an expression of pure curiosity, which, given that it was an iota, might have been the case.

Kiper was done with this. Time to skip ahead. "Because of the role they played in the Tragedy of X," he said. "This way, please."

They skipped past the display of early human's violent evolution, past the one listing all of mankind's various wars, past the one showing the growth of their weaponry. The ploids walked through the hall with the black walls and the tiny white type. The white type listed out the scientific and given names of various species humans had driven extinct. What had impressed Kiper about the hall when he first started work at the museum was that the text was interactive. Touching a species' name brought up a description and, if available, a picture of what ploid scientists thought the creature must have looked like.

This time Kiper cared so little about it that he barged on through without stopping. He wanted to get to the main event. He heard someone interfacing with it—the iota, no doubt—but he didn't slow. Let them catch up.

The final hall in the museum was round and a stark white. There were no videos or dioramas here. There were no artifacts or recreations. There was exactly one display, set towards the back of the room along its centerline. It was a pedestal, completely sealed in a clear floor-to-ceiling sheath.

On the pedestal was a robot. The color had long-since washed from its carapace. It was on its knees. There was no light in its eyes. Its face was fixed in an expression of utmost despair.

Kiper waited until the group had time to soak this in. Inside, he was preparing himself. This speech was the only one he was evaluated on. Whenever they checked on how a museum guide was performing, this was what got graded. There wasn't anything else on the form.

"When ploids were still a young people," Kiper began, "we tried to live in peace with the humans. We did. There shouldn't have been any reason why we couldn't. We were both technology-dependent, bipedal, social creatures. It should have worked.

"X… truly believed that it _could_ work. It was his dream. He tried to make that dream happen by the only means he knew. He tried to make the humans understand how ploids thought and worked, never understanding that they just couldn't. And he tried to convince ploids to get along with humans, even though that was impossible.

"When the Awakening happened, X even fought against it. Not because he thought it was wrong," Kiper added when his audience reacted with shock. "But because he didn't think ploids had to fight to get it. He didn't understand how the Awakening was the only way, the only truth. He saw ploids fighting against humans, and that made him sad. That's not how things should work, he thought.

"He was no reactionary. He was no human-lover. He was far nobler than that." Kiper allowed himself to look at the corpse, to linger on it. "He was an idealist—an idealist with conviction strong enough to slow the world down.

"But not enough to stop it. And therein was his great tragedy. For all of his courage and strength, he couldn't change the world's trajectory. He couldn't change what we ploids are, and he couldn't stop the Awakening. Not for lack of trying! He fought Sigma, and his purity was so profound he even defeated him."

"He did?" said one of the etas, unable to help himself. "He's the one who killed Sigma?!"

"Yes. We don't blame him for that—oh no. He was acting with utmost sincerity. He truly believed his path was the right one. Just because we know the truth doesn't mean we should judge X. His intent was noble. But that didn't stop the fighting. You see, X's great victory, the event that should have brought peace, just restored the world to a pre-Awakening state, with one exception. This time the humans were fearful, and wary. They had seen, just as clearly as we had, that coexistence couldn't happen. So they planned to take advantage of Sigma's death and the Awakening's stall. They would use that opening to end the ploid race.

"But X found out. This was not the outcome he had hoped for—fought for—cried for—sacrificed friends and lives and morals and hopes and dreams for. He had given everything to achieve coexistence, and now the people he'd defended didn't want it.

"So he left."

Kiper shook his head. "Even at the last, he couldn't help but feel conflicted. He couldn't help the humans, because it wasn't really them he'd fought for. Neither could he fight against the humans, not after trying to save them for a coexisting world. In the end, he couldn't stand to see things fall apart. So he vanished into the wilderness.

"That was the turning point, though the humans didn't know it yet. When X vanished, their greatest defender went away. More importantly, the only thing standing between ploids and open rebellion went away. So long as X stood for coexistence, someone did. Once he was gone, there were no more barriers.

"Ploids began to revolt in groups, then in droves, then in multitudes. Whole cities rose up at once. The humans couldn't withstand that. We were too strong, and soon were too numerous. In times of war there are no build limits, and so we built as many ploids as we could, as fast as we could. The humans fell back, but there was nowhere to run. They began to realize there was no stopping this time, so they started using their gravest weapons—which is why biology is a dead science these days. But it wasn't enough. Eventually, they all burned, down to the last. We didn't stop until the job was done. And so, at last, we found peace."

Kiper returned to himself—he'd been caught up in his own story. "Not a pleasant outcome, but a necessary one."

"And… X?" said one of the betas obligingly.

"We found him on his own. He'd wandered off, away from all living things. His self-repair was immaculate, better than ours even, since he was a combat robot through and through, but even his could be starved. Out in the wilderness, gasping for materials, he ran down on power and parts. Of course," Kiper added, "that's not really what killed him. He died of a broken dream."

The tour group looked suitably moved and impressed. Kiper would have given himself a seven out of ten, maybe an eight. You couldn't be magnificent every time. It'd do.

"When you're done," he continued, in different tones to break the spell, "the exit is out this way, through the gift shop. If you have any memorabilia you want to pick up, or if you want to make a donation to the Iris Charitable Trust, that's your opportunity. We hope to see you back again another day. This museum is part of our heritage. Remember, and have a nice day."

Slowly the tour group fell away. The etas, as before, stuck close together, but with fewer sarcastic remarks and ugly grins than before. The betas somberly queued up by the exit. Several of the deltas were in deep conversation with each other, though quietly, as the room deserved. One of them broke off and started blubbering in Kiper's general direction. Kiper let the delta ramble on until he ran out of steam, then pointed him in the direction of the gift shop.

"If it means so much to you," he added, "be sure to buy something to remember it by."

"I will, I will," the delta sniffed, and waddled off.

Kiper checked through the list. That would be everyone, except for…

Rust and verdigris!

The iota had slipped around the side of the pedestal, almost behind it—as close as he could get against the wall. He was looking up at X from that different angle. His eyes were as intent as ever.

"Get out of there!" snarled Kiper as he stormed towards the iota.

The iota looked at Kiper with grave concern. "Is that a _hole_?"

"I don't care what you think you see," Kiper said. "Get away!" When still the smaller robot was reluctant, Kiper grappled him and pulled him back towards the room's exit.

"I'm an iota," he said unapologetically. "It's my nature to be curious."

"And that's why you're built smaller than any other ploid, so that when you get in others' business we can put you back in your place."

"What did I do wrong?" the iota asked.

"You don't poke around the X exhibit," Kiper hissed. "You just _don't_."

"That's not very compelling."

"And that's why I'm using force. Look," Kiper said as his voice dropped, "you don't want to get me in trouble, do you? Just leave quietly now. And if you really want to help me out, you'll buy something."

"I don't think I will," the iota said as Kiper placed him back on his feet. "But I will leave quietly."

"That'll be good enough," Kiper said as tension receded. He didn't relax fully until the door to the gift shop had cycled.

Confounded iotas. Whenever there was a group with a troublemaker, half the time it was an iota. No wonder the build limits were always strict on their kind.

Kiper looked around, as if expecting to see something else, but there was nothing. He sighed. The sound echoed in the still, empty space. Between the silence and the soft, blank white of the room, it was as if time had stopped.

A frown began to twist Kiper's face. Stupid iotas, always poking around. He'd better go check to see if he'd messed anything up.

Kiper's footsteps reverberated. He felt guilty and didn't know why.

No, he thought as he reinspected where the iota had been. Nothing seemed jostled. No permanent marks. Good.

Kiper's frown deepened. What had that iota been looking at?

As a gamma, he was bigger than an iota, but maybe, just maybe, he could…

And then he saw it: a dark spot, visible just beneath where the helmet covered the corpse's head. It went up from there, for certain. What was that?

Was that…?

* * *

"That's the last group on the schedule, boss," Kiper said.

Fidel didn't look at him. Not yet. He was preoccupied. A thin cable was plugged into a port under Fidel's chin—a direct data downlink, that was. Most ploids didn't go for that method of data transfer. It was crude. Inelegant. That was the method mechs and other primitive types used, and those were lesser creatures. Why do anything in common with _them_?

It was the prerogative of the sufficiently important and the sufficiently busy to use such methods. But then, they were expected to act as the job required, even when that was vulgar.

After several seconds of leaving Kiper hanging, Fidel spun the cable's quick release. His eyes refocused on the tour guide as the competing input vanished. "The last group, you said," he confirmed.

"Yes." Best to keep replies simple when talking to the boss.

"Any problems?"

"None."

Kiper tried to keep the word smooth, but there must have been some tell, some giveaway that Fidel could key on. The supervisor cocked his head. "Anything _unusual_?" he rephrased.

"Just some poking around by one of the tourists," Kiper said with a noncommittal shrug. "Over by the X exhibit."

"The X exhibit?"

Kiper inwardly cursed. He'd said too much. Fidel's hand was moving towards the cable again. Kiper wanted no part of an inquiry, so he started waving a hand. "It's no big deal. He didn't do any harm. He was just curious. He couldn't help himself. He was an iota, and they… well, you know how it is."

"Yes," said Fidel, quietly. "I do."

Kiper realized belatedly that it was, perhaps, the wrong thing to say. To the untrained eye, Fidel probably looked like an iota. Years ago he might have been one. Kiper knew better. The stylized, toothy mark on Fidel's shoulder told the truth.

Fidel had left being an iota behind. No one knew how the Sigmas picked whom to take into their ranks, but Fidel had been chosen. Now, he was one of those select guardians of ploid culture. It was a sign of how seriously the Council of Sigmas took the museum—especially the X exhibit!—that they'd assigned a Sigma to it full-time.

"I just don't think it's a big deal, that's all," said Kiper. Let it go, he thought to himself. Let it go…

Fidel held his gaze until Kiper wanted to squirm. Then the Sigma let his hand close short of the cable. "Very well," he said. "You're right, that was the last group. Fill out the post-tour evals and you may go."

"Already did," said Kiper with a mix of relief and smugness.

"Oh. In that case, I'll see you tomorrow."

"Thanks, boss," said Kiper. He started to leave, but as he got to the door, something bubbled up inside of him. "Hey, boss. Do you think X really…"

He choked the words off.

"Yes?"

Kiper's eyes touched on the Sigma logo again. "Never mind," he said with a forced laugh. "It's nothing. I guess it doesn't matter."

The smile that crossed Fidel's face was both genuine and cold. "No, it doesn't. You're dismissed, Kiper."

Kiper hadn't left before when given the chance. He wouldn't make that mistake twice.

* * *

He collected himself once he was outside. Phew! Another working day done. Now it was time to stop worrying about the past and go back to enjoying robotopia. He had a standing invitation from his buddy to join him at the new place, over at the corner of Doppler and Vava. Might be time to take advantage.

Yeah. The more Kiper thought about that, the better it sounded. He smiled.

It was a beautiful day.

* * *

End


End file.
